Introspection
by m.michele
Summary: If you were going to use one word to describe Byakuya Togami (but why would you settle for just one?) that word might be "decisive". Cool, calm, and self-assured, which was perhaps why he so hated Touko Fukawa. Maybe "hate" was a strong word. And maybe it wasn't really hate, anyway. Togami reflects on his relationship with Fukawa; Rated M to be safe for NSFW things. One shot.


Hello! Long time no write. This is my first thing in probably a few years, and it's also my first foray into the NSFW territory of fanfiction-writing, so I hope you all enjoy it. Togami/Fukawa is my number one, end-all-be-all OTP right now, and Fukawa in particular is a very important character to me.

That being said, and knowing I'm a bit rusty and inexperienced with mature writing, I'd love any comments you might care to share. Thank you all so much! Here goes~!

Special thanks to tumblr user rukiakuchlki for reading through it before I published it!

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If you were going to use one word to describe Byakuya Togami _(but why would you settle for just one?)_ that word might be "decisive". Cool, calm, and self-assured, Togami's determination had helped him in his climb to the top as heir of the renowned Togami corporation. Even when he made a mistake, (which seldom happened) his collected manner and business savvy had assured a fortuitous outcome for everyone involved.

Which was perhaps why he so hated Touko Fukawa.

Maybe "hate" was a strong word. And maybe it wasn't really hate, anyway. Maybe he was just confused by her. And Byakuya Togami is not one prone to confusion or emotional turmoil.

On the one hand, he found Fukawa disgusting. Her self-loathing was beyond pitiable, in his opinion. She hated herself, and believed everyone else hated her as well. She was completely deluded by her own insecurities. But perhaps that level of self-deception is only to be expected from someone who was a bestselling author by age ten.

This same predisposition to illusion was probably what had spurred on her fantasies about Togami. She claimed to be in love with him, and would do anything – ANYTHING, no matter how embarrassing or harmful – he asked. In fact, sometimes it seemed the more degrading he was, the more she enjoyed it...

On the other hand, it wasn't as if she was some pathetic wilting flower. She had her own peculiar kind of self-assurance. Although she tended to assume people were judging her on sight, she was equally judging them (and she was often not impressed by what she saw). She knew the extent of her talents, too, and like Togami himself, felt no need to stoop to those below her. Her disdain for her peers led to the sometimes troublesome habit of making outlandish accusations about their intentions, but he felt that went hand in hand with her somewhat suppressed ego.

Perhaps that was why she had so taken to Togami, he thought to himself. She recognized him as someone truly worthy of her devotion. He felt no especial pride in this; things were only as they should be in that regard. He could respect her pride, and equally, her submission to him.

In short, Fukawa's constant self-put downs and puppy-dogging around him irritated him to no end, but at the same time, he knew **SHE** knew her own worth, deep deep deep deep DEEP down, and she had chosen to give her allegiance to him, something the rest of the Hope's Peak students would do well to emulate. It was just the way she kept coming back with a smile and a glimmer in her eye that put him off...

...because she was almost cute when she smiled.

Almost.

Togami rolled over, waking from an uneasy sleep, as his subconscious mind pondered and sorted through all these things. Slowly opening his eyes, he noticed Fukawa.

Since he had announced his split from the rest of the Hope's Peak students, he had been spending most of his time on his own. Except for Fukawa, who had insisted on following him around. He would never admit it, but he really didn't mind. Every powerful figure needs a subordinate, he told himself.

They had been sleeping in his dorm room; he in his bed and she curled up in a corner in the floor near the door. Her reasoning had been that if anyone were to try to get in in the night, they might step on her first, and wake her up in time to alert her dear "Byakuya-sama".

But tonight, Fukawa was in his bed. She must have waited up until he was asleep and then crawled in with him. She had been spooned up next to him, with an arm around him. Holding him to her? Protecting him? As he had rolled, she had hardly shifted, and now the thin, birdlike arm rested across his pale, slim chest. She murmured something and then nestled her face into his shoulder.

Now Togami wasn't just confused, he was nervous, and he couldn't tell which was worse. To be nervous seemed to mean he had settled onto a conclusion about how he felt; but the conclusion he may have settled on wasn't one he was sure he wanted. He felt compelled to take action.

He cautiously pushed a piece of her overgrown bangs out of her face and slowly, slowly—was he ever going to do it?-planted the tiniest of kisses on her pale and peeling lips. In her sleep, her breathing fluttered into a quiet gasp of pleasant surprise, in a way that excited Togami more than he would have liked to acknowledge.

Angry and frustrated by his own emotion (that other dirty word), he switched into the setting that was easiest for him: rude, all business, and in control. He pushed her arm off of him (but not too hard) and hissed at her "What are you doing?"

Blinking blearily, she strained to see him without her big round frames. Her grey eyes were moist from sleep. "Hunh?"

Slowly, with contained anger, he repeated "What are you doing in my bed?"

All at once she seemed to remember where she was. "Ah! B-b-byakuya-sama! I-I-I-" She looked guilty and embarrassed...but there was a lilt in her voice that betrayed her usual pleasure at having been noticed by Togami, no matter how negative his reaction was.

Despite all his threats and commands _(how dare she disrespect him?) _she had invaded his personal space ( but he thought he liked it?) and there she sat, close enough to practically feel the heat radiating from her body, close enough to -

Without a chance to think, or even evaluate through the motivations or consequences to what he was doing, he grabbed her wrist and gripped it tightly. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock more than anything else. Before she could say a word, he kissed her, hard.

He kept his eyes closed, feeling hyperaware of every other sense. Togami's other hand went up to her face, his palm moving from her cheekbone up to her hair, his fingers entangling as he gripped near her scalp. He continued to grab and release at her hair, eventually pulling her head back to bite at the exposed section of neck.

He heard the tiny crunching sounds of the vertebrae as her stiff muscles relaxed, and she let out a soft moan. Contrary to his constant complaints about how much she stank, she smelled like old library books and vanilla. Her head still bent back, she wrapped her own arms around his neck and shoulders, bracing herself by using her weight against his.

As she pulled him closer, Fukawa noticed that Togami was hard, and she thought of all the novels she had written and read. A host of phrases that suddenly all seemed antiquated and immature rolled through her head: "erect", "member", "groin", "throbbing", "pulsing"...It all sounded so silly in comparison with the real thing. She felt herself flush all over and wondered if this was a dream.

Togami felt her flush; in fact, he felt her whole body temperature rise. She burned. He resumed kissing her, and his tongue forced its way to hers. Unspoken, almost in tandem, they moved so Fukawa was propped against the head of the bed, Togami hovering over her. With one hand, he felt one of her small breasts, which she was so self-conscious about, through her shirt; the other lifted up her skirt and slid around her underwear.

She was startlingly wet. He pushed a finger inside her, and she moaned again, louder.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this what you wanted when you, you pathetic lapdog, tried to get in bed with me?"

Fukawa was in shock: fantasies are one thing, but when one starts to come true, especially one as vivid and all-consuming as hers, the level of surprise involved is almost overwhelming. "No," she said breathlessly.

"Liar," he whispered in her ear.

"No, no, I didn't..." she said. Well, she did want something to happen, she thought, but in her wildest dreams she would never have imagined...never would have dared...not really...

"Why are you lying to me?" he asked, raising his voice, teasing her with the tip of his index finger. "You haven't shut up about it since the moment we met!" He used his most authoritative voice: "Now, tell the truth!"

"Yes!" she finally gasped, "yes, I wanted it!"and he plunged his finger into her again and again, rhythmically. Her yelps and gasps of pleasure made him feel a kind of smug satisfaction not quite comparable with any experience he had ever had before. He withdrew, and looked her levelly in the eyes. "Take it all off."

"Y-y-yes! Yes, Byakuya-sama"

As she began to disrobe, Togami, who had slept in only black boxer-briefs, reached to remove them. He felt that the front of them was wet from excitement. Out of habit, he put his glasses back on.

Fukawa was slouched below him again, her pale skin looking almost purple in the dim light. She was completely nude; her long braids were mussed from his fingers. Creases from her clothing left visible indentations on her soft flesh. Inexplicably, the thought crossed his mind that she looked like poetry.

Fukawa looked up at Togami, feeling a kind of fearful exhilaration even she, with her writer's vocabulary, was unable to describe. Togami's lean body was just as long and smooth as she'd imagined...except for the parts ("rod", "stallion", "manhood") that she had somehow conveniently forgotten. That part looked hard and unyielding. She reached up to touch the skin of his chest, trailed a finger down his lightly rippled abdomen, and into the unknown of a dark, wiry patch of hair, and whatever unknown (etc. etc) she might find there.

As her fingertips lightly touched him, he shuddered. She felt a violent fluttering in her stomach: was his response pleasure? Or distaste? She wasn't sure which one excited her more. If it was in pleasure, there was no question that she would continue. But if it was in distaste, then she had an opportunity to prove herself to him. Anything for her white knight...She softly ran her fingers across every inch of his shaft, gently cupping his balls, feeling braver and braver with every soft moan she elicited from him.

The glint in her eye was back. She had his attention, the thing she so craved, and with it, she was growing confident. Well, he'd give her a little more. He pushed her flat on her back, and her braids bounced. Swiftly, he straddled her, leaning over close to her face, as if poised to enter her. And then she did the thing he hated the most, the thing he wanted so badly against all common sense: she smiled. It was a disgusting, obscene smile; both ingratiating and self-satisfied, as if she could read his mind, his confused and conflicted desire. Startled by the light blush across her cheeks and the hunger in her eyes, he hesitated and then growled, backing away.

As he did, Fukawa's stomach dropped, and she scrambled to a sitting position again, suddenly very self conscious about her nude state, quickly coming down off of the emotional high. She looked down at herself and noticed the neat crease across her midsection where she hunched forward at the waist, and the wormy scars on her thighs. Her heart sank; this was all her fault! She was so disgustingly ugly, grotesquely fat – corpulent, even – he couldn't bear to go through with the act! And she couldn't blame him.

She thought back to her old school: the friends who went out on weekends, and all the times they hadn't invited her. The unrequited crushes and love letters passed around the school. The feeling of changing in gym class and finding another cut on your leg that wasn't there the day before. The experience of buying makeup for the first time, and only using it to hide the rapidly forming scars. The blessing of sleep every night and the dread of waking up in the morning.

As Togami pushed his hair out of his eyes and his glasses up on his nose, he saw her sitting there, shoulders hunched and fiercely gnawing on the skin around her thumbnails, breathing unevenly. It occurred to him that the chances were very high that he had hurt her feelings by withdrawing as he did, not to mention the self-deprecatory things that must be going through her head. A hand was absentmindedly stroking her thigh, and he saw the roman numerals inscribed there. He sighed.

"Fukawa."

She looked up at him, obviously trying to hold back tears. She had no problem being submissive because it was her choice to be so. Appearing weak, however, was not something she had any interest in. She managed to hum a "Mmmm?" , forcing herself to meet his eyes.

"Stop that. That's no way for a student of Hope's Peak Academy, the Super High School Level Author, to behave. You're better than this sniveling – though not by much. If you're going to throw your lot in with me, you're going to have to show a little more spine. Understood?"

Fukawa was shocked. This was the closest thing to what you might call "kindness" that Togami had ever shown her. Read between the lines a little, and did she hear that he...was giving her permission to be around? That he thought she wasn't an incompetent crybaby? A weak, weepy mess? An ugly hag?

As she contemplated this thought, Togami realized that what Fukawa would have called "the moment" had passed; coming back to himself, he reached off the side of the bed and to the floor to collect his underwear, which had gotten knocked aside.

As he put it back on, he remembered Fukawa's body displayed before him, and couldn't stop a blush from spreading. He grabbed a sheet and, adjusting his glasses to hide the look on his face, he thrust it in her direction. Back still to her, he slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, drinking water from the tap and giving himself a good, hard look in the mirror, wondering what had come over him that he might even consider copulating with that filthy siren. His internal monologue was yelling at him, berating him, but he simply didn't have the energy to think about it, much less rationalize with it.

When he finally did come back into the room, she still hadn't bothered to get dressed; instead she had wrapped herself up in the sheet and was laying on her side, eyes closed. He grimaced in unwitting appreciation at the way the sheet draped over her body like a statue, and somewhat reluctantly got back into bed. as her sides moved up and down in carefully measured breaths, he rolled his eyes; no doubt Fukawa was still too wired up to actually go to sleep, and would be replaying the evening's events over and over until she caved in to exhaustion. Resigned to it, he lay down next to her on the bed and waited, pushing his own instant-replays to the side, only to have a flash of bare skin or a half-echo of a gasp invade his consciousness unexpectedly.

He listened to her breathing, as she stopped pretending to be asleep and actually returned to her initial slumber. He counted her deep breaths, as his own became infused with fatigue. Unthinkingly, as he crossed the border from wakefulness to slumber, he rolled over on his side and placed one slim, sturdy arm around her, his hand lightly cupped around the two she held close to her heart as she dreamed.

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Thanks again for reading, I'd love any feedback or constructive criticism!


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